


Hrøkkva (Recoil)

by dendraica



Category: DreamWorks Dragons (Cartoon)
Genre: Emotional Whump, Gen, Grieving, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Viking funeral rites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 13:09:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13858416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendraica/pseuds/dendraica
Summary: Tuff must deal with a death in the family that is personally painful to him, and feels alienated when his clan refuses to follow funeral tradition. A old friend helps him come to terms with the loss of an estranged family member, having been through it herself.





	Hrøkkva (Recoil)

The Hall was still and quiet, save for the scrape of benches across stone floors and the groan of the great doors opening to allow people inside. Chief Stoick had summoned the entire Thorston Clan, barring anyone else not part of the family. Such was the way with death-tidings; they were meant to be private.

This was hardly the first time either of the Twins had been here for such a thing. They had been younger then and death by dragon was just a normal part of life. Stoick, as their chief, had always led the families on Berk in such events, and he did so now - though his red hair was peppered with more grays than before. He made a large, protective figure with a calming voice that could just as quickly turn thunderous to break up squabbles.

Each time, as well as now, the Chief had made hot tea, blankets and sitting pallets available for the elderly and very young children. Slightly older children, if cold, were free to find the comfort of laps to rest on.

Tuff’s own legs were currently going numb, as well as his sister’s. Their four year old twin cousins, Tallownut and Candlenut, had wasted no time flopping across them in sulky exhaustion. Apparently their mother, Agnut, had been a bit cross with them on the way to the Great Hall.

He absently ruffled Candle’s golden locks and glanced over his shoulder as the Hall doors opened one more time, allowing sour-faced Cousin Lars and Uncle Londer. Tuff didn’t look at them long, turning to his sister. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to - she understood what he was thinking.

Those two only showed up if blood money had been sent along with the death-tidings, mostly to try and claim a greater share of it. Tuff’s curiousity was definitely piqued, and he wondered whose lips had been loose enough with such details that it reached their ears.

A death-tiding was a simple enough affair, made so in consideration for those who would grieve. As early as ten, Tuff recalled being ushered with his twin into the Hall to hear the saga of how valiantly the fallen had fought their enemy. People talked long if they had witnessed it, and anyone with even a minute detail was encouraged to speak up. Last words, honorable deeds if any, whether they suffered - all of these things were important to the family.

Following that, a kinsman, kinswoman or sometimes even a child was allowed to stand and vow to avenge the fallen - by taking up the same weapon that had killed them. In Berk’s case, it was simpler; the avenger promised before their Elders and Odin to take down the same kind of dragon on the next raid.

After that, they went home, sometimes with people weeping all around and sometimes just quietly numb. It wasn’t that uncommon for people to stay over at the Twins’ house. On many occasions he and Ruff helped Mom put pallets and blankets on the floor, and dragged their father’s chair away from the fire to let the elderly and little ones keep warm.

Children would cry usually, because the adults were and it scared them. By circumstance, Tuff had become the one who snuck them candy and told silly stories and jokes until they fell asleep in his arms. It had become his favorite task to do, with the added benefit of having an excuse to sit closest to the fire. Ruff would have been jealous, only she hated getting her hair yanked on by sticky fingers.

Seven days after, the family feasted together, with as much food and mead as everyone could spare during the lean times. They shared memories, laughed, raged, cried, brawled, drank toasts to the fallen and hoped they had reached Valhalla.

That was the Viking way, and the Thorston way - because it was so perfect already it didn’t _need_ changed.

Now that there were no dragon raids however, a death-tiding was rare. And Stoick had specifically asked the Twins to make sure they were seated in front. Which didn’t happen unless …

Feeling Candle start to drool against his knee, Tuff absently wiped the little boy’s mouth off with a corner of his vest. He once again ran through lists of relatives in his head, trying to think of who they knew directly who hadn’t been accounted for or seen lately.

One name stood out stubbornly obvious above the rest, but he just as stubbornly refused to consider it.

Ruffnut elbowed him before he became too lost in thought and inclined her head toward the Chief, who was carrying something respectfully. He couldn’t make it out before it was set down though its shape was sickeningly familiar.

 _No_.

Tuff’s body tensed and he looked away from the object to study the flagstones of the Great Hall instead. Candlenut shifted a bit, but thankfully remained asleep, as he heard his Aunt Hazelnut gasp.

Ruff nudged his shoulder repeatedly, though gently, until he looked up again to witness what he didn’t want to.

“To all your clan I bring this news,” Stoick was saying, “Death has taken one of your own, Gruffnut Thorston, aged but twenty summers. He was slain by dragon hunters. We have not recovered the body, but certain effects and an offering of gold have been returned to your clan as a gesture of recompense..”

Murmurs erupted through the Hall and even through the rush of horrified grief, Tuff felt an uncomfortable number of eyes fall upon him. Candle lifted his head sleepily, blinking, and Tuffnut felt his sister grasp his hand.

“Dragon hunters?” Hazelnut cried, standing. “My son has no dealings with dragon hunters! Why would they have harmed him!? He’s a good boy, he was just commissioned by a captain to join his crew in search of a lost treasure!”

Some people groaned, others snickered. Many of the Thorston clan were wise to all Gruffnut’s stories, but it was an impossible task to convince the boy’s mother that any of his tales were falsehoods.

Hazelnut was undeterred and pointed at Tuff, who flinched. “That’s the one who dealt with dragon hunters - my nephew - and no doubt he and his sister provoked them on his dragon! They must have mistaken my boy for him, and I demand further compensation from him!”

Immediately the Hall descended into arguing, some agreeing with Hazelnut and demanding justice, while others spoke up in Tuff’s defense - his sister being one of the loudest.

She had stood up so abruptly it nearly sent poor Tallow to the floor, but Tuff caught him with one arm and set him next to Candle on his knee. Both children looked around, read the angry mood and scurried out of Tuff’s arms, running to the safer haven of their mother’s. Although he couldn’t blame them, he was sorry to see them go.

Lost, Tuffnut looked to Stoick, who was looking right at him, expression somber. He held up a hand to bring silence to the quarreling voices. “Yes an identity was mistaken. However - HOWEVER -“ Stoick roared, and the voices again quieted. “It is not Tuffnut’s fault.”

“How is it not?” Aunt Hazelnut’s voice was full of venom and Tuff shrunk down a bit, unwilling to challenge her.

He felt someone sit between her glare and himself and smelled the familiar aura of comfrey and cloves that surrounded his mother, Madge. Likewise, Ruff sat back down to guard his other side, leaning her bony self against him in commiseration.

“Sister -“ Madge started calmly.

“Don’t you dare call me that!”

“Let our Chief shed further light on the matter, unless you are too afraid to hear it.”

That and the sudden razor sharp edge to Madge’s voice shut Hazelnut up, at least for the moment.

Stoick cleared his throat, looking beyond grateful he didn’t have to raise his own voice to a grieving mother.

“As I was saying, Gruffnut was already being pursued for crimes of his own - gambling with loaded dice it would seem.

“They mistook him for Tuffnut because that was the name he gave to them when he was caught cheating. And it was because of that false name that the men decided to kill him as a spy, rather than keep him hostage for repayment of his debts.”

A general murmur of dismay went up, and Aunt Hazelnut’s face turned slowly white with humiliation. She crossed her arms and went deathly quiet, glaring at the floor. Tuff almost felt sorry for her.

“His death was swift, I’m told, and there were no words. The tribe of hunters’ new leader wants no quarrel with Berk and so he sent along these tidings, Gruff’s belongings, and three of the arrows that killed him. He also sent gold, enough to recompense - “

“How much?” Hazelnut transformed from a grieved mother to a coldly shrewd one in less than a second flat. Beside him, Ruff snorted and muttered something under her breath, but Tuff went cold with horror.

Being humiliated in front of everyone was harsh, but still … she was his cousin’s mother.

“That much?” One elder spoke, and Tuffnut realized he’d missed the Chief’s answer. “That’s more blood money than I would have ever asked for that lout!”

“Right, and now I think some of it should go to me, to replace all the grapes that boy ‘sold’ from my vineyard two summers ago. Don’t shake your head at me, woman! You’ll have more than enough left over -“

More arguing, and instead of over who would attend Gruff’s honor - who would avenge him, lay him to rest with fire, host the feast - it quickly dissolved into a cacophony of who should get what percentage of gold.

Tuff shook off his sister’s hand and jumped to his feet, face white.

“Send it back!” he yelled, so furiously and suddenly that Stoick actually blinked in shock. The arguing tapered off into stunned silence, but Tuffnut looked nowhere else but at the man in front of him. “Send the gold back, Chief, and give me an arrow. I take responsibility and I’ll avenge him myself!”

He held out his hand, and ignored the sound of Londer and Lars laughing  uproariously from the back of the Hall. “Go ahead, boyo! Maybe they’ll send us more gold if it’s really you they kill off this time!” Lars called.

Stoick gave the man a cold glare, then turned back to regard Tuffnut kindly. “I’m sorry, son. When blood money is sent, it is the entire clan that must decide whether vengeance is to be meted out, and the gift of peace to be rejected. What happened was an accident, and had Gruffnut been truthful, then he would be sitting here alive among all of you.”

Tuff lowered his hand, eyes stinging. He turned to face his sister, mother, the rest of his clan. “And what does the clan say? Was Gruffnut not our kin? Are the dragon hunters not already our enemies? Does he really mean so little to all of you that you’d forget your own blood to accept this guilt money?”

He grit his teeth against the memory that played out in his head: his abandoned cousin shouting up from the beach that they were of the same blood. The last time Tuff had ever seen him alive.

“Sit down, boyo,” called Uncle Filbert, waving his arm. “As you’ll do well to remember, Gruffnut never even passed initiation into the clan. Furthermore he died by his own cheating hand, as the Chief said. Mistaking him for you was unfortunate, but again his own doing. That’s two ways he brought his own death upon himself, those arrows that pierced his flesh were fully provoked. Avenging him would only further our family’s humiliation.”

Tuff’s stomach dropped as Filbert’s words made others raise their voices in agreement and even prompted some applause. His chest hurt and he sat down when his sister tugged him to this time.

“Hey, bro, it’s not your fault,” she murmured. “Apparently Stoick had us sit up front so he could protect us if things turned into a free-for-all. Guess he overestimated how upset everyone would be.”

That only made him feel worse. Their cousin was dead and again voices began to raise, haggling, bartering, arguing over the gold - creating a nauseating din.

“ENOUGH!” roared Stoick, all but splitting the table with a crash of his fists. Immediate silence descended. “I cannot believe what I am hearing! Deciding against vengeance is wisdom in this case, but haggling for blood money is a disgrace in the eyes of the Gods!

“If no vengeance is declared for Gruffnut Thorston and the gift of gold accepted by Gruffnut’s mother, then you will now discuss preparing your clan’s feast as you return to your homes. I want no reports to come back to me of any harassments, brawls or fist fights over this matter, or by Odin there will be cracked skulls to contend with!”

There was no arguing with that. People began to rise and collect their children, fold up blankets.

Stoick said nothing as Hazelnut walked up and took the pouch of gold, pausing to look at the collection for a moment before coldly turning to leave. She did not take anything else of her son’s.

Tuff stared miserably at his cousin’s lopsided helmet, sitting forlornly next to the bloodstained arrows, a few armbands, and the familiar tooth necklace. He found that he suddenly couldn’t see anything through his tears.

Swallowing hard, he covered his eyes with his hand, trembling and barely aware of Ruff and Madge’s attempts to soothe him. A large presence made him look up to see his Chief, features gentle, though slightly distorted through the wetness.

“I’m sorry, son. Hiccup told me what happened out there on the Edge. I know despite everything he did, you cared for him. You spoke bravely for your cousin’s honor today, and I want you to know I’m proud of you. Here.”

Stoick took Tuff’s hand gently and set the toothed necklace Gruff had always worn in his palm. “I think he’d want you to have this.”

Tuff said nothing, but he closed his hand around the pendant tightly.

Gruffnut _wouldn’t_ have wanted him to have this.

There were no words to describe how much that hurt.

——-

He didn’t come out of his room at all the next day, not even to eat.

Ruff had tried only once to get him up. When she saw his face, she sighed and left him to do their chores.

At some point he woke up to a plate with a piece of boar bacon at his bedside table and a fried egg on toast. He didn’t even remember eating it, but it was  gone when he next looked.

Tuff wasn’t really aware how long it had been, lying curled on his bed, clutching the tooth pendant so hard it left imprints in his palm.

In jagged bursts throughout the day, he cried until his head hurt, not fully sure why but unable to stop. For once, Tuff hadn’t wanted his sister near him, which she had seemed to understand, reluctantly giving him space. He’d barely even wanted Chicken, who Ruff had taken great pains to smuggle in past Hardsell.

This wasn’t something he felt right to accept comfort for.

Not when he was safe in his own bed, staring up at his own darkening ceiling, with his hen snuggled against his ribs.

Not when Gruff’s body was Loki-knew-where, possibly fed to Whispering Deaths. Or sunk in the ocean, ice cold and nibbled by sharks, with nobody to care to see him off to … wherever he was supposed to be going.

Tuff sat up suddenly, breath catching and making Chicken tumble off the bed, squawking and ruffling her displaced feathers back into place. He padded over to the window with bare feet, opening it wide and letting cold air and snow rush in. He took a breath and recited the prayer to the night sky, to any god still awake to listen.

It was useless - he had no arrow, no fire, and no boat -  but the prayer he could at least say out loud.

“There do I see my father, my mother, my brothers, my sisters -“

He recited it perfectly, all the while unable to stop thinking about where Gruff physically was right now.

Was he scared? Could he still feel cold after he died? Could he feel the pain of torn flesh? Worst of all, had he seen and heard his own kin - his mother - turn their backs on him in the Hall?

Freezing air made Tuff’s breath turn into clouds. He stood at the window shivering and thinking of unpleasant realities for far too long, before finally giving into despair and closing out the cold.

Head pounding in dehydrated misery, he crawled back under the covers and fell into an exhausted sleep.

———

“Tuff!”

The voice wasn’t angry but it was loud, enough to jolt him back into guilty awareness. Bright blue eyes peered into his - not the right shade to be his sister’s.

“Hey, are you okay? I heard what happened. I’m sorry.” Astrid hugged him, and he awkwardly hugged back. “You know it wasn’t your fault, right? If anyone told you it was, you tell me and I’ll deal with it.”

Her tone was fierce as well as worried and it made him look away, suddenly wanting nothing to do with this interaction. It wasn’t Astrid’s fault, he just …

It was his fault. He’d left Gruff behind, he’d been so angry with them. Granted, he hadn’t left him penniless, but still - trouble was his cousin’s currency and Tuff should have known he’d find more of it than he could handle.

His friends refusing to admit it didn’t change a thing.

He heard Astrid sigh and felt her loop her arm around his, taking him to the Great Hall where the others were likely eating breakfast. Tuff barely remembered getting out of bed and dressing to leave the house. He wasn’t sure if he wanted company, but he also didn’t have the energy to refuse.

Dragging his feet only a little, he let her lead him to their table, not looking up. Fishlegs moved to make room and Tuff’s mouth went abruptly dry as his friends greeted him. His mind scrambled for an excuse to break free and run home, but of course he couldn’t think of one. Miserable, he sat down, refusing to look at anyone.

“Hey, Tuff,” Hiccup greeted amiably. Tuff simultaneously wanted to punch and hug him. Hiccup had been there when Gruff betrayed him - each time. He was probably relieved their cousin couldn’t hurt him anymore.

Tense as a wire, he nodded back at him in greeting. “Hey.”

A meaty arm pulled him into a side hug. That would be Fishlegs, who gave the best comforting hugs, but Tuff didn’t feel like one. When he didn’t react other than freezing up and going expressionless, Fishlegs looked at the others worriedly. “I think he might be in shock,” he said quietly and Tuff very nearly snapped at him that he wasn’t.

“So, dragon hunters, huh?” Snotlout said, not bothering to be subtle. Tuff was almost relieved. “Come on, spill - what stupid thing did Gruffnut do to- OW!”

There was a shriek and sure enough, when Tuff looked over Astrid had Snotlout’s arm twisted behind his back and his face pressed against an empty, greasy dish on the table. “What is wrong with you!?” she snapped, livid.

“He pretended to be me,” Tuff said, surprising himself by answering. “While swindling them out of their money. He got caught. So they thought not only was he a thief, but also a dragon-rider, sent to spy on their operation and free some dragons. They killed him, and figured out he wasn’t me, so they sent home his helmet and some gold.”

“Did you get any?” Snotlout asked, still pinned. Astrid dug her elbow viciously into his spine. “Hey, ow! I’m just asking!”

“I didn’t want the stupid blood money, I wanted vengeance!” Tuffnut snapped, heatedly. Fury had made his voice far too loud. There was a brief silence in the Hall as other heads turned. He dropped his face into his hands, not able to take the shocked expressions before him. “Sorry,” he muttered faintly.

Astrid let go of Snotlout to sit next to him. “It’s okay. You probably have a lot of mixed emotions right now,” she said, trying to soothe him. “Gruff was your cousin, but …”

“He scammed you guys over and over,” Fishlegs put in. “He tried to steal your dragon, ruined your coming of age trials, not to mention your birthday, and he nearly got you killed on that Hunter ship.”

“That doesn’t mean he deserved to die,” Tuff muttered defiantly. “And it doesn’t mean he deserves to go unavenged either.”

“Of course it doesn’t, that’s not what we’re saying.” Hiccup reached over to take Tuff’s hand. “We just don’t want you to blame yourself for any of this. This is obviously very hard on you, given how much you trusted and looked up to him your whole life.”

Tuff didn’t reject Hiccup’s hand, but he shook his head. “You guys don’t get it. This isn’t about me, it’s about him. He’s dead - he was killed by these guys. He’s never going to get to come home and visit his mom, he’s … he’s gone. Am I really the only one who cares about that?” he asked plaintively.

His friends looked taken aback. “Well, it’s sad,” Astrid said hesitantly. “But we’re honestly more worried about you. Stoick told us how you stood up to your entire clan for him. Tuff, you have more kindness in you than you like to show sometimes, and we all know it’s there. It’s no surprise to anyone that you’d feel so much pity for Gruffnut.”

“Pity?!” Tuff abruptly got off the bench. “I don’t pity Gruffnut! I’m not a ‘kind’ or ‘nice’ person for mourning for my own cousin! For eighteen years of my life, Gruff was the one who would make time for me. He answered my dumb kid questions, showed me where to steal the best food, got me into all kinds of trouble! And if it was all him lying or just using me, I don’t care! I still felt happiness from it, because he was paying attention to me!”  

Hiccup, Fishlegs, and Astrid were staring at him in guilty dismay, while Snotlout was strangely wet-eyed.

“I’m angry at him for lying and doing what he did. I want to punch him in his stupid face and demand why he didn’t just ask me for help with his stupid debts instead of endangering me, my sister and our dragon, and then I want to help him get his shit together and lead a normal semi-honest life! But now? I _can’t_ , because he’s _dead_ , and I will forever wish death and painful dismemberment on the ones who took his life before we were through!”

His eyes were stinging and more than just the dragon riders were staring at him at this point in his tirade, but Tuff didn’t care. He wiped his arm across his face angrily. “And I don’t care if it makes me a fool. H-He still matters to me if no-one else.”

When his friends remained quiet, not knowing what to say, Tuffnut turned and swiftly left the Hall, refusing to look at anyone.

——–

Whether a man was sick, dead, or grieving, the chores of keeping a house never went away. 

Animals and dragons still needed fed and tended, pens and stalls kept clean. This winter was as cold as any and right now the house was low on chopped firewood.

Hardsell had one job other than hold down the chair and drink his ale, and that was making sure the fire didn’t go out - and it was only his job because Madge had no trouble letting him sit like a fool in front of an empty hearth to freeze.

He was fat and hungover and in no mood to swing an axe this morning, so he boxed Tuff’s ear at the table on the way to retrieve his fur cloak. “Get off your arse and come help me chop.”

Surprisingly instead of arguing, Tuffnut got up and followed him. The boy had been like that for days now, sullen and quiet and while Hardsell didn’t miss the cheek Tuff normally showed, he couldn’t help but feel unsettled by the change. There were dark circles under the boy’s eyes, which had lost their brightness and become dull. His casual smile had gone, replaced with a thin line, and he barely ate, despite his sister and mother’s fervent attempts to make him.

Hardsell no longer felt like shaking the mischief out of him everytime he saw him, mostly because there was none. Though he hated to admit it to himself, that gave him some niggling sense of concern.

“You haven’t flown that dragon lately, which explains why that sister of yours is in such a foul mood. You’re going to take her out on that beast this afternoon and do something other than sulk, understand?”

Tuff nodded, wordlessly picking up the axe that leaned against the woodshed. Hardsell didn’t press the issue, looking oddly embarrassed, and started hauling big logs out of the shed, setting them on the ground and going back for more.

He kept an eye on the boy, watching him pause to tie his hair back and up out of his face, twisting it so those stupid braids of his stuck out every which way. Tuff picked up the axe and began chopping.

He was awkward at first, unused to the job, but soon the pile of split wood started to fill the wheelbarrow almost faster than Hardsell could haul out the logs. The man glanced at Tuff’s face after a half hour and saw a cold rage that he’d never seen before.

Up went Tuff’s arms, and then down the maul crashed, splitting the logs with almost too much force now, sending the halves flying. It was vaguely worrying, and Hardsell watched him for a long moment before going back for more logs. On the plus side, the boy’s anger would split enough wood for the whole week, and Hardsell was going to take the opportunity to be lazy.

He almost missed the black haired girl approaching, so intent was he on watching Tuff, that when she was suddenly addressing them, he was startled enough to drop a thick log on his foot. Wincing and grumbling, Hardsell stepped aside, arms folded over his chest and watching her come closer, softly speaking his son’s name.

Tuff paused and looked at her in surprise, maul still over his head to swing down. He set it down slowly and turned to face her -the first time Hardsell had seen the hint of a smile on his face since before the death-tiding.

A quick glance at her waistline assured Hardsell that she wasn’t in the family way, and he shrugged, going to pick up the scattered wood to throw into the wheelbarrow. Let Tuff talk to his sweetheart or whoever; it saved him the trouble of trying to deal with the boy’s feelings. Hardsell refused to address the slight relief he felt as he carted the wood back to the house to stack it.

He did however glance over his shoulder with a sly grin, impressed despite himself. Whoever she was, the girl was a beauty.

He was going to be nice for once, and take his sweet time stacking the wood.

———

“Heather,” Tuff said, voice quieter than she’d ever heard it. Fishlegs hadn’t been wrong to worry in his letter. Tuff looked stretched thin and exhausted, and she recognized his expression all too well.

It had been the same one she saw in the mirror, every day after Dagur had sprung the trap early at the shipyard, had left that farewell note on her bed  …

“I thought I’d come visit Berk, but you weren’t with the others. Everything okay?”

“… no.”  Tuff’s voice was brittle and it made her draw closer. He stared at her, looking oddly lost.

Heather sat down on the stump, leaving enough room for him to sit next to her - an invitation which he took without prompting.

“So, tell me about it.”

Haltingly at first, he told her everything. Heather listened, watching tears run down her friend’s face and at times putting an arm around him, but letting him vent.

“The family’s n-not holding a feast for him. Not going to take vengeance, not going to send a boat off, not going to remember him at all. He’s the cautionary tale now - that’s how he’s being remembered.

“I tried - I really tried yesterday to talk Aunt Hazelnut into taking his helmet back, maybe putting it somewhere in a window, just so he can kind of, sort of be home again,” Tuff was saying, wiping the heel of his hand over his cheek and leaving a dusty smudge. “But she shut the door in my face and she wouldn’t open it again and I couldn’t just leave it there because what if she throws it away?”

Heather bit her lip. Tuff was heartbroken by his family’s decision, on top of Gruffnut’s death, on top of his cousin’s betrayals. She couldn’t fix it, but she could understand where a good part of his pain was coming from.

“That’s not all that hurts, is it? You want to yell at him and hug him at the same time because he was an idiot, and you want to understand why he did the things he did. So you can forgive him.”

A sudden intake of air, and then a sob was her answer. Tuff buried his face in his hands.

Heather took no joy in the fact she’d hit the mark, and hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry,” she said gently, feeling guilty. And it wasn’t because her brother had survived, had turned his life around, had been able to mend their relationship.

It was because she’d also felt hollow and dead inside for weeks afterwards, thinking of how it was her fault. Thinking she’d turned away the only family she had left, and angrily rebuffing anyone who tried to make her feel better.

She hadn’t felt as though she _deserved_ to feel better. 

When Astrid had finally gotten through to her that night, had finally made her talk and cry it out, and grieve - it had been both cathartic and horrifyingly miserable.

Right now she was doing the same necessary evil to her friend, and his sobs hurt to listen to.

Heather adjusted her wolf-trimmed cloak so that she could drape some of the heavy warmth around Tuff.

“Tell me about him,” she coaxed after he’d quieted a bit. “I never did get to meet your cousin. Who was Gruffnut Thorston to you?”

“H-He was a jerk. But he was cool and weird and everything I wanted to be. I used to follow him everywhere, and he just let me. Once when I was five, he showed me how to sled on Dad’s old shield,” Tuff offered, after a silence. “I went too fast, crashed horribly, broke the shield and part of the neighbor’s yak pen. Got my ears boxed but it was still fun. Gruff laughed so hard his face nearly turned purple.”

He was smiling faintly. Heather nudged his shoulder with hers encouragingly, until he started telling another story, and another.

As he talked, he painted a picture for her of how things had been between them. It hadn’t mattered to him that Gruff’s heroic stories never seemed to line up; they’d been awesome because Tuff had loved him.

“How … How did you not go after those hunters when you thought Dagur was dead?” Tuff asked eventually. “I mean, I was totally expecting you to sneak off, both of us were. Hoping you would, actually, because then we would’ve helped.”

“I figured that much,” Heather smiled, feeling warmed by that. “And I _did_ want to, but I also didn’t want to put all of you in danger. I knew it would change nothing, it wouldn’t bring Dagur back. But Gods, did I want to wreck them. In the end, whenever we went on missions, I just kicked a little more ass and a little harder than I normally would. I thought of Dagur every time I did, and to tell you the truth? Even though he’s alive and well, I still go just the tiniest bit overboard for almost losing him.”

Tuff relaxed against her, looking tired but more like himself.

“It’s three more days to when we would’ve had a feast. Gruff knew this place by the Eastern markets, where they have lots of great food and very unsavory people coming into port. Those Hunters have been known to sell trapped helpless dragons there to avoid certain tariffs,” he mused, and Heather raised a curious eyebrow. 

“And Hiccup never said we couldn’t - I don’t know, free captive dragons whenever we saw them caged up. Also, the question of collateral damage just seems kinda open for interpretation.”

She saw where he was going with this and grinned sharply. “Count me in. I’m sure Dagur is definitely good for it. My brother’s been spoiling for a fight.”

“Well, I’m not going to say no to two attractive Berserkers. Especially if one of them’s a redhead.” He winked.

Heather cracked up and lightly punched his shoulder before getting up. Tuff stood with her, though he looked serious.

“Hey, Heather? Thank you.” He wrapped his arms around her in a warm embrace and she hugged him back just as tightly. “Thank you for everything, for _listening_ to me.”

She kept him in the hug, the moment only ending when Tuff’s stomach growled. “Anytime. Now go eat something.”

Laughing sheepishly, he waved goodbye to her and started down the slight hill to his house. Heather watched him go, glad she could do something.

——-

The raid had gone rather well, actually. The riders had freed at least ten dragons, four of them being Zipplebacks with beautiful rare blue markings. It had cost the hunters far more than the blood money they’d sent to Berk, as had the two ships the Twins completely decimated, via Barf and Belch’s explosive gas.

That would teach them to mess with a Thorston.

Exhilarated and singed, once they landed on the relative safety of a sea-stack, the Twins lifted Heather off her feet in a bear hug. They tried to do the same to Dagur, but he smirked and went deadweight, knocking them all over and nearly flattening them, sending Heather into a fit of laughter.

“I gotta hand it to your cousin,” Dagur said later, once they were flying back to Berk. He popped another crab cake into his mouth and hummed with appreciation. “He definitely knew where the best grub is. Mmm, it’s so spicy, I love it!”

Tuff smiled at him, oddly shy. A light punch on his arm made him look at Ruff beside him, who was smirking. “Thanks for coming with me, sister.”

“Are you kidding? I may not have been as fond of Gruffnut as you were, but I’m not gonna turn down a chance to blow shit up and bring some honor to the Nut name.”

She grabbed his collar and headbutted him, making their helmets spark.

“So how mad do you guys think Stoick is going to be when he finds out where you two have been?” Dagur teased. Being Berserkers, he and Heather naturally had immunity.

Ruff chuckled. “I got it covered. I’m just gonna tell him you and my brother went on a romantic moonlit flight, and Heather and I had to chaperone you two.”

Dagur promptly choked on his next crabcake and Tuff burst out laughing, guiding Barf and Belch closer so he could pound the man on the back. He horked it out and wiped his mouth. “Thank you, Boynut,” he croaked, face tinged red with more than coughing. Tuff’s face was honestly no better.

They flew off toward home, already making plans to do it again next week.

Below them, gleaming in the flames of the last Hunter ship, a lopsided helmet perched on the mast, sinking slowly toward Valhalla.


End file.
